


The Captain America Public Service Announcement Program™

by Skyuni123



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Author's Favorite, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Comedy, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gen, M/M, News Media, Passive-aggression, Public Service Announcements - Freeform, Sarcasm, Social Media, Stealing of Food, Talk Shows, Unresolved Sexual Tension, everyone is so done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2018-12-23 07:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11985549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: The Avengers get back together post the Accords Thing.Steve Rogers is roped into making a whole bunch of Public Service Announcements for schoolkids.(Y'know the ones from Spiderman Homecoming? Those ones.)





	1. The Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> so, for the purposes of this fic, let's pretend that all the Avengers got back together after the Accords thing.
> 
> Also, I know that time-wise, this whole PSA thing probably would have been made a little earlier, but I wanted to set it in this time period for REASONS.
> 
> enjoy.

It’s the fault of the Accords.

 

Or more accurately, it’s the fault of  _ Tony Stark,  _ who helped create the Accords and started this whole problem; which they’re  _ finally  _ beginning to clear up with the media, themselves, and basically the world at large.

 

The Avengers are back together. Ish. 

 

Steve’s  _ technically  _ still a war criminal, they’re all  _ technically  _ not talking to each other (barring Giant Life-Threatening Disasters - because even bitterness has to be put aside for Giant Life-Threatening Disasters) and there’s  _ technically  _ not someone stealing food from the communal fridge (because ‘communal’ and passive-aggressive post-it notes are just arbitrary things.) 

 

They’re working it out. 

 

It all starts one September morning.

 

Steve’s in the kitchen at the Avengers compound, making a smoothie. This is one of four kitchens, nicknamed as the ‘cool kids kitchen’ by someone who’s scribbled on a post-it note and stuck it to the door. It’s generally pretty quiet, generally fairly calm, generally not visited by one Tony Stark, who enters the room like he owns the place.

 

(Which technically, he does.)

 

Steve nearly impales himself on the blender he’s holding as Tony comes to stand ominously close to him. This… this is new. They’ve not been in such close contact - barring a Giant Life-Threatening Disaster scenario (and they don’t really count) - since before the Accords. 

 

“Stark.” He puts the blender down, feigns nonchalance. 

 

“Rogers.”

 

And boy, if that doesn’t say  _ something.  _ Honestly, the situation would have been chilling, except Tony looks unreasonably gleeful _. _

 

“What’s going on?”  __ Generally, if Tony looks gleeful, something bad’s about to happen.

 

“I have it on good authority,” Tony says, punctuating the words unnecessarily, “that  _ you  _ are going to be the face of a new media campaign.”

 

“New media campaign?” Companies (that he’s vetoed, of course) have been using his image for years. He’s been the face of everything - from toothpaste to tampons. He doesn’t know why Tony’s so happy about this one. “What sort of campaign?”

 

“Now that is the kicker, Rogers. You’re going to be the face of a bunch of public service announcements. PSAs, if you will.” Tony smirks at him, “It’s to help endear the public to the Avengers again. Or something. I didn’t read the highly-confidential stolen document properly.”

 

He sighs. Somehow, he’s not even surprised. That is, if Tony’s telling the truth, and it sounds like he is. He’s learned Tony’s tells over the years and he doesn’t seem like he’s making the whole thing up. “When you say PSAs, what do you -”

 

“For kids. Talking about growing up, fitness - all that fun stuff.” Tony waves his hands about madly. “You know.”

 

Steve’s not sure he wants to know. “Right. Why are  _ you  _ telling me?”

 

“Was in the area.” Tony’s gaze suddenly morphs into something sharper, more wary. He pauses. “Do I need a reason to be in the…” He clears his throat, and gestures at the sign on the door. “the ‘cool kids kitchen’?”

 

Steve’s sure he hears a choked-off laugh from the vicinity of one of the air vents. He’s fairly sure he knows who’s up there, but doesn’t put much stock in it for the moment. “Not at all. I just haven’t seen you for a while, is all. It’s fine. It’s good!”

 

He feels like he probably could have phrased it better.

 

Tony laughs, and claps him on the shoulder, letting his hand linger for a moment too long. “Sure thing, cupcake. I’ll see you.” 

 

And then he leaves.

 

Steve feels slightly stunned, and more than slightly flustered, so much so that he barely notices the sound of someone dropping to the floor behind him. 

 

As such, he’s a  _ tiny  _ bit startled (in a totally superhero way) when Clint says, “Y’know, he could have just texted you.”

 

Steve turns, and leans against the kitchen island. “Yes. He could have.”

 

Clint’s wearing loose sweatpants and an oversized tshirt that says ‘I Love Hawkeye’ on it. He’s also eating something from a container that has ‘BRUCE’ written along it in dark black letters.

 

“It’s a bit disingenuous, wearing your own merchandise, isn’t it?” He asks, before he can stop himself. He decides to ignore the container thing for now, but considers moving all his own food out of the communal fridge at a later date.

 

“Eh.” Clint shrugs, gesturing wildly with the container. “Got it from a fan. ‘S comfy. Like I was saying. Tony could have texted you. Or got FRIDAY to tell you. Or emailed you -”

 

“Stop.” It echoes loudly in the quiet of the room. He doesn’t realise how hard he’s gripping the edge of the tabletop until he hears it begin to crack. He lets go. 

 

Clint rolls his eyes and changes the subject. “Public service announcements for kids! That’ll be exciting. Star-Spangled-Man and all.” 

 

His tone suggests anything but.

 

“Do you think I could talk my way out of them?” It’s not that he doesn’t  _ like  _ helping people and participating in campaigns, but these sort of things tend to be… insincere. Commercial. He’s a kid from Brooklyn who was lucky enough to survive. He’s not sure how much knowledge and ‘superhero wisdom’ he can dispense.

 

“Doubt it.” Clint gives him a considering look and puts the container back in the fridge. “I could spray you with that goo spray stuff, beforehand, if you like? Make you all sticky and unappealing for the cameras?”

 

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll pass.” The goo spray had taken  _ weeks  _ to get out of his hair.

 

The archer shrugs. “Your loss.”

 

“I guess.”

 

He thinks he might sound a bit downtrodden because Clint rolls his eyes again. “Go on. Make your smoothie, or whatever that… concoction is. I’ll deal with Tony.”

 

The concoction is the beginnings of a kale smoothie. He can see why Clint’s not especially enamoured with it. “Thanks.”

 

“Awesome.” Clint gives him a thumbs-up and climbs gracefully back into the vent, disappearing from sight almost immediately.

  
  


He’s going to be teaching school kids how to survive in the twenty-first century. Great. They’ve definitely got the best guy for the job.


	2. east river

 

On the day of his PSA shoot, several weeks later, Steve’s still wondering  _ why  _ Bruce had food in their fridge, considering he’s been AWOL for a couple of years now. What is even more perplexing is why Clint was eating it. 

 

The man has a stomach of steel. 

 

The Public Safety Announcement programme has been renamed ‘Rappin’ With Cap’ for reasons that he’s not quite sure of. His agent (because he has an  _ agent  _ now, how bizarre is that) had explained that they were trying to appeal to the youth markets, but Steve’s from another time, and even he’s aware of how cringy it sounds. 

 

They dress him in a overly-clean, far too shiny version of his wartime uniform. It pinches where it shouldn’t and makes him feel overly  _ weird  _ about the whole thing.

 

The uncomfortable feeling gets even worse when he’s given his scripts. They’re short, only a few sentences long, but they’re full of the kind of faux-sincerity that Steve  _ hates.  _ He mightn’t have children himself - and probably never will, knowing this life - but kids shouldn’t be talked down to in the way that they are in his scripts. Half the things the scripts say aren’t even accurate, or are wallpapered over in a way to make them family-friendly and digestible. It’s almost sick. 

 

He doesn’t like it, but he’s here now.

 

Somehow, he doesn’t think that SHIELD will be too happy if he refuses to do the campaign. He knows his reputation is mud already, and he probably shouldn’t make it worse.

 

Time to grin and bear it. God knows he’s been through worse.

 

-

“Hi, I'm Captain America. Whether you're a student or a soldier, there's one thing that'll always give you an edge. A hot lunch.”

 

There’s kids not getting hot lunches all across the country, but he’s making light hearted conversation about how they should be eating them. It’s irony, if irony is  _ really, really  _ grim. While he supports the message (a balanced diet is always good), there’s something so unpalatable about it. 

 

-

 

“So your body's changing. Believe me, I know how that feels. When I was younger-” 

 

-

“Hi, I’m Captain America. I’m here to talk to you about one of the toughest enemies I’ve ever faced. Tooth decay.” 

 

At least that one has some measure of truth to it.

 

-

 

“Hi, I'm Captain America and I'm here to talk to you about one of the most important weapons in any soldier's arsenal. Math.”

 

-

 

“Hi, I’m Captain America. So, you’ve come to the point in your life where you think you want to have sex.”

 

He finds that one really hard to do with a straight face.

 

\- 

 

“Hi, I’m Captain America. I love celebrating this great nation on the Fourth of July, but trust me, there’s nothing patriotic about illegal fireworks-”

 

While he’s sure that illegal fireworks are a problem, illegal firearms tend to be worse and no-one seems to be doing anything about those.

 

-

 

There’s one that really drains him. It begins with the usual, “Hi, I’m Captain America,” and ends with, “-which is why you should always practise abstinence outside of marriage. God bless the United States of America.”

 

While he did make a video about sexuality and contraception for  _ some  _ schools, there are other schools in America that aren’t fond of that sort of thing. They don’t even want to explore the possibility of their students having sex, so they preach abstinence above all else. It’s a naive view - even he knows that - and it’s embarrassing. The words feel dirty coming out of his mouth.

 

The producer calls for a lunch break and Steve strips out of his plastic suit and hangs it on a hanger. He doesn’t particularly want to get back into it. 

 

Lunch… Lunch would be a good idea. 

 

He quite literally bumps into Tony on his way out of the building.

 

“Rogers!” Tony’s dressed casually, in a hoodie and jeans, and he looks like he’s trying very hard to be innocuous. He’s holding a large paper bag in one hand. “Thought I might run into you.”

 

“Were you just… ‘in the area’ again?” Steve can’t say that it’s  _ bad  _ to see him, but it still feels a little too much like a setup.

 

“You caught me.” Tony holds up a hand in mock defense. “I wasn’t in the area. I thought you might want to get lunch? These things can kinda suck and I know you don’t want to be stuck in a room with a bunch of gaffers who think you’re a war criminal.”

 

“Thanks for bringing that up.”

 

“You’re welcome, Cap. I bought food. Shall we go somewhere?” Tony holds the paper bag up and shakes it enticingly. “Ethically made - It’s from Eat Offbeat.” 

 

The thought of food is a welcome one. Eat Offbeat is a delivery service in New York that hires refugees and teaches them how become professional cooks. It’s unique, and tasty. “I’m only coming because of the food.” 

 

“I don’t doubt it, Cap.” 

  
  


There’s a park just down from the studio where they’re shooting that has a view all the way across the East River. With Tony with his hood up, and Steve wearing a large pair of dark glasses and a baseball cap, they could be any two men out for a stroll on a sunny autumn day.

 

Not the two former friends turned enemies turned… friends (??) again that they are. 

 

They settle on a stone stab looking out over the East River promenade. Joggers run past and a giant labrador sniffs at Steve’s shoe.

 

Tony starts pulling items out of the bag. Edamame salad, chicken meatballs in cashew sauce, Nepali-spiced lamb… the list goes on. 

 

“You sure know how to spoil a dame.” Steve remarks, dryly, and tucks in.

 

“Good food is good food, Rogers.” Tony delicately strips an edamame bean. “It’s more about the company you keep.” He tosses the skin of the bean into a nearby bin.

 

“Yes.” The food is good, but he’s not completely happy about being in such close contact with Tony after they…  _ beat each other half to death,  _ his traitorous brain supplies. It’s been over a year but it still feels fresh. “Tell me… you’re not trying to bribe me, are you?”

 

Tony stops halfway through another bean and gazes up at him, wide-eyed. He blinks, innocently. “Surely not, Rogers. I’m shocked that you would ever say such a thing.” 

 

“Are you lying to me?”

 

“Lying to the good Captain? Surely not.” Tony pouts. It’s not very endearing. “Seriously though, I know how shitty those PR things can get. What home truths did you have to tell America’s youth?”

 

He does everything he can to hold back a scowl. “If I had any say in the matter, I wouldn’t be doing it.”

 

“That’s SHIELD for ya.” Tony says, patting him on the shoulder. “They hold you ransom and make you do things. They’ve got you now, Cap, there’s no escape.” 

 

He sighs again. “I wouldn’t be opposed to doing this sort of thing. It’s just that the messages are so patriotic in the most uncomfortable way. It’s basically propaganda, and you know I wouldn’t just call something that. I don’t like having to speak to children in the way they want me to.”

 

“What are they making you say?” Tony seems genuinely interested, though that interest might have just manifested because of the meatball salad in front of him.

 

He gives a brief overview of some of the PSAs. It’s fairly likely that he probably shouldn’t be talking about them, but he doesn’t have the heart to care right now. They’re in the middle of a noisy park. If anyone’s monitoring them, they’re not going to be picking much up. 

 

“Do you think you’re maybe… overreacting a tad, Cap?” Tony munches on a sprout. 

 

Steve glares at him.

 

Tony holds up his hands and quickly backpedals. “Okay. Maybe not overracting. Just… they’re not that serious. Most kids are going to look at them and ignore them, if they’re that dumb. No-one’s going to look at your PSAs and take them seriously.” 

 

“It just feels like I’m being wheeled out as a figurehead for something that I don’t agree with.” 

 

“Get used to it, sunshine.” Tony shrugs, “Perils of the media, unfortunately. You’re the Star-Spangled, Overly-Patriotic, bleeds red, white and blue Man. I’m the billionaire genius playboy philanthropist. Neither of us are actually what the media says we are, but they’re our images now. Nothin’ we can do to change that.”

 

“I’m pretty sure you are a billionaire, though.” 

 

“Yeahhhh.” Tony shrugs again, “Our public images are based on truth. I bet you were the Star-Spangled Man once, right?”

 

“Should have seen me in the 40s.”

 

“Oh, I’ve seen  _ pictures.  _ I bet the real thing was quite the spectacle.” 

 

“There was a lot of dancing.”

 

“Really?!” Tony laughs, overjoyed. “You’ll have to show me some time.” 

 

“Careful, there.” Steve quips, dryly. “It’s beginning to sound like we’re friends again.” 

 

“Accords or no Accords, Rogers, I didn’t actually want to kill you.” Tony’s tone turns serious. “It’s all just politics and image. It’s shit sometimes, but we have to put up with it.” 

 

“Mmmm.” He’d rather not get into the Accords right now. It’s a sunny day, there’s no-one attacking New York (for once) and he’s having a half-decent conversation with Tony. He doesn’t want to spoil that. “What if I don’t want to be known just as the ‘patriotic American guy’? What if I want more?” 

 

“I’m fairly sure most people know you as ‘the guy who helped stop a mad alien dude from destroying New York’...” Tony trails off at Steve’s look. “...But go on. What do you want?”

 

“I want to make things that’ll help people.” Steve explains. “Like the PSAs, but  _ good.  _ None of that ‘abstinence only’ nonsense. Nothing overtly patriotic. I love this country, but I can definitely recognise its flaws.” 

 

“I’d have thought ‘abstinence only’ would have been right up your alley, Rogers.” Tony says, thoughtfully. He looks like he’s planning in his head.

 

“I spent years of my life on a battlefield with other men, Tony. You need to read up on your history. If you didn’t think there wasn’t any  _...dancing…  _ then you’ve really misinterpreted the nature of humanity.” In fact, venereal disease was so prevalent on the battlefield that there were propaganda campaigns about it. 

 

Tony looks taken aback. “You…  you, with men? I didn’t think you had it in you, Rogers.”

 

Steve rolls his eyes, after checking his watch. “I’m ninety-seven, not dead. I come up with an idea that could actually help people and you focus on the fact that men at war used to have sex with each other. That’s very you, Stark.” 

 

“Sorry.” Tony swallows heavily. “Yeah. I just- never mind. History. Right. Your idea. I’ll, uh… have a think about it and I’ll - I’ll, uh - come up with some ways to implement it.”

 

“I appreciate it.” Steve pats him on the shoulder and lets it linger, just for a moment. He’s deliberately being provocative now, but Tony deserves it. 

 

Tony looks like he’s about to explode and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

 

“Anyway, thanks for the lunch.” Steve collects his containers and puts them back into the bag. “It was delicious. I’ve got to be back at the studio soon. Have a nice afternoon, Tony.”

 

“Yeah… yeah... bye Steve.” Tony waves him off, looking deep in thought. “Thanks- thanks for the company. Yeah.” 

 

Steve grins wildly all the way back to the studio. A new idea for a project, good food, and an unsettled Tony Stark. What could be better? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoops i guess we're going with socialist!steve and steve-can-give-as-good-as-he-gets steve. lmao. 
> 
> 80% of the text is from the actual psas. weird.


	3. the end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a Colbert interview, and Tony says some things.

Steve Rogers is good at many things, but he’s _especially_ good at being petty.

(Just when the situation demands it, mind you. He’s not that overzealous _._ )

 

Mere days after the conversation with Tony and the disastrous Rappin’ With Cap shoot, Steve’s got a plan. He’s even _implemented_ said plan.

(The current government is probably not going to be happy with said plan, considering their propensity to be generally terrible all of the time, but the current government can politely get stuffed.)

 

Hell, a _week_ after his chat with Tony and the disastrous shoot, he’s on _Colbert._

(Though a lot of people have been clamoring to talk to him since the whole ‘war criminal’ thing, so it wasn’t too hard to get the interview.)

  


Stephen Colbert is warm and charming and completely the right choice to talk to. Steve’s glad that his publicist gave him his name first.

 

“So, Captain - should I call you Captain?” Colbert begins.

“Steve, please.” Steve grins. He doesn’t want this to be associated with his ‘brand’. This is all him. “In that same vein, can I call you Stephen?”

“Of course!” Stephen laughs, “I’ve been waiting to talk to you ever since you came out of the ice, you can call me anything you like.”

Steve could push it, but he’s not going to. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So, _Steve_ -” Stephen leans forward slightly, like they’re about to share a secret. “-I hear you’ve got a new project on the way. A very special project, if the words on this piece of paper here are any inclination.” He waves said piece of paper at the audience.

“I do!” Steve is more than happy to explain. This project has been several days worth of work and the world needs to know. “I was working on a film set for… something - don’t worry, you’ll eventually see them - and the _insincerity_ of the whole thing was uncomfortable. I don’t like putting my name to things that I don’t support, and I was essentially being coerced into making something I wasn’t happy with.’

 

He knows he’s talking himself into a hole, knows that SHIELD and his publicist will be having a long talk with him once he gets off stage, but it doesn’t matter now. The show is live, thankfully, and they can’t stop him talking. He doesn’t think about what Tony will think, because that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that America’s kids don’t get taught awful things by him.

 

“You decided to take matters into your own hands?” Stephen says, clearly trying to steer the conversation back to port.

“Yes. I did. I think, as people in the media, that we have a responsibility to tell the truth. Especially to our kids, _especially_ to those who could be unfairly swayed by things we put out there.”

“For someone from the 40s, you definitely have a better grasp of ‘media transparency’ than a lot of us do.” Stephen says, quietly, as though he doesn’t want the cameras to pick it up.

Steve shoots him a grateful look. “So, I took a leaf out of your friend’s book. John Oliver? He did an educational video on sexual education a few years ago?”

“I’m surprised you’ve seen it.”

“Tony keeps me afresh of all the internet’s highlights.” Does he _ever_. Steve had been sent over a thousand videos (mostly of cats and memes) before he had to tell him to knock it off. “And I saw that video the day it came out. The honesty in it was comforting.”

 

“I’ve got to say, Steve, I expected you to be more…”

“Prudish?” He’s been unfrozen for several years now, he doubts that there’s much in this new world that could shock him.

Stephen laughs. “I was going for _conventional,_ but yours will do.”

“You’re not the first person to say so.” This interview’s going to go _viral_. (Steve still doesn’t exactly know what viral means). “I told Tony that I was bisexual - not exactly in those words, but it still counts - and he seemed astounded that there was sexuality at all back in my time.”

 

Oh yeah, SHIELD is going to kill him.

 

The crowd starts cheering. In all honesty, Steve had almost forgotten that they were there.

 

Stephen looks positively _delighted._ “Well, they’re certainly happy.”

Steve shakes his head. “This isn’t nearly as big a deal as people seem to think it is.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. I bet you there’s kids at home right now that are cheering because they’ve got something in common with their hero.”

Steve blushes. Only a little, because the serum managed to iron most of that annoying little habit out of him, but he still does. “I hardly think-”

“Yes, yes, calm down!” Stephen yells out to the crowd, who are still being raucous, “you can talk about this on Twitter later. We’re still interviewing here.”

 

The crowd quiets, but only barely. Stephen sits back in his chair with a look that says ‘what can you do?’ “We’ve sidetracked a bit, haven’t we?”

“Only a little.”

“You came here to talk about your project. Let’s get back to that.”

 

“Yes.” Steve straightens almost imperceptibly in his chair, “Steve’s Stories. They’re not actually stories, but people told me that everyone likes alliteration, so I went with that. Steve’s Stories are… videos. They’re a series focussing mainly on health and sexuality where we talk about things that might affect young people these days, as well as giving anecdotes and support.”

“We?” Stephen questions.

“Yes, I’m only one point of view. I can give the perspective of a bisexual man who spent a lot of time in trenches, but I can’t talk about much else. I was lucky enough to find lots of diverse people who wanted to work with me.” He’d been able to find tons of people - celebrities, superheroes, civilians - who wanted to work on the project with him. “Steve’s Stories haven’t been filmed yet, but they’ll be released in the next couple of months. I intend to distribute them online and to schools for free.”

“Well, that sounds like a damn good idea.” Stephen takes his hand in his and shakes it. “It’s been an absolute pleasure meeting you, Steve, and I hope your project works. Tell me, before you go… how is everything going after the Accords?”

Wow. That’s a question he’d never thought he’d get asked. “Everything’s fine.” He says, edgily. “We’re making amends, rebuilding the team. Tony and I… talk.”

“That’s Tony Stark, right? You mention him an awful lot.”

“I guess I do.” Steve’s never really noticed it.

  


The interview finished, Steve heads back into the dressing room he was given and wipes off the stage makeup. He’s sweaty (apparently he was more anxious than he realised) and wants to get home to wash up.

That plan is, of course, thwarted by Tony Stark, who is hanging out in the studio’s parking garage near Steve’s bike, trying and failing to look inconspicuous.

 

“Tony,” says Steve, who spots him immediately.

“Capisicle. Ballsy move coming out on Colbert. The world’s going to be a whole new place tomorrow morning.”

“How’d you mean?”

“I mean, there are still a few gossip columns about _me_ and I was last spotted kissing a guy in the late _nineties_ \- the media’s going to tear you apart. You’ve probably just alienated most of the Republican party and a whole ton of conservative Christians.”

“Good.” Steve says, because he doesn’t have time for such things.

“I like the idea though. ‘Steve’s Stories’. It’s cute.”

“Cute’s not what I was going for.” He shooes Tony away and climbs onto his bike.

“Okay, Steve, I think it’ll do a lot of good for young people and will be effective at turning the tide of far-right assholes in this country. Happy?”

“Very.” He eyes Tony, who’s still standing and even fidgeting a bit. “Coming?”

“On the bike?”

“Do you see any other transport?”

Tony sighs. “Only ‘cause it’s you, Steve.”

 

He climbs up behind him, and wraps his arms around Steve’s waist. “I might break your ribs.” He warns, mumbling right into Steve’s neck, and making him shiver. “Just forewarning you.”

“Good luck.” Steve replies, and guns the bike.

  
  
  
  


They stop by the edge of the Hudson on the way back to the Avengers Compound. By this time, it’s completely dark out and the city is still.

(That’s not actually true, but it seems like it.)

 

They sit on a bench, gently pressed together, and stare out at the river.

Steve’s resolutely not checking his phone, sure that there’ll be far too many alerts and notifications for him to deal with.

 

Tony, however, does and says, “85% approval for your interview, Rogers. Plus I have _several_ missed calls and texts from SHIELD, who want to know where you are and seem to be getting rather irritated about you going AWOL.”

Steve says dryly. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“Oh, you could buy my silence. For a price?”

“What could I give you that you couldn’t buy?”

“The key to your heart?” Tony says, offhandedly, but it chills Steve to the core because it sounds like the most honest thing he’s said all day.

He snorts, shrugs it off. “You’re getting sappy in your old age.”

“I’m serious.”

 

Steve sighs and turns to him. “You know that we were at _war_ a few months ago, right? We nearly beat each other to death. That’s hardly the basis to build a relationship on.”

“Spoiler alert, Cap, we’ve already _got_ a relationship.” Tony snaps, “We’ve been dancing around each other for years.”

“Still not good enough. You tried to kill my best friend.”

 

And there’s the kicker.

 

As much as he _admires_ Tony, as much as he appreciates what he’s done for him since he came out of the ice, he _can’t_ take it any further. It’d feel too much like a betrayal to Bucky (still on ice in Wakanda) for that.

 

“That’s fair enough.” Tony leans back after a moment, looking thoughtful.

“What, really?”

“Yeah. I’ve been an ass. You’ve been an ass. We need to work on ourselves before we get into anything. I get that.”

“Wow.” It’s like, after everything, Tony Stark has finally grown up. What had _happened_ during the interview? It’s like he’s come out to a different universe or something.

Tony turns to him and cups his cheek. “I can’t say I’m not _disappointed,_ ya know, but I get it.” He traces the sharp planes of Steve’s jaw with a finger, still looking thoughtful.

A curl of heat hangs low in his belly but he doesn’t pull away. “Uh- should- should we go?”

“Probably.” Tony says, with a wistful smile. “I shouldn’t start anything I can’t finish. Come on then, Cap, let’s go deal with the media.”

  
And so they leave. It’s not a beginning, hardly a spark, but it feels something like _progress._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the end! there'll probably be a sequel, idk eh. thanks for reading, commenting and kudosing! i really appreciate it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> check me out on the [tumbs](http://villainousfilmmaker.tumblr.com) or the [twits](http://twitter.com/skyuni123)


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